Invictus
by ApollodoraTheExplorer
Summary: A sequel to Osamu Tezuka's manga Dororo, since it was tragically cut short. Set ten years after the end of the manga. Rated M for violence, because I like writing violence. I haven't seen the anime or the movie and I am yet to complete playing "Blood Will Tell", before you ask. Enjoy, or don't. All characters are owned by Tezuka and are not being used for commercial gain.


Chapter 1 – Rescue

_Not yet, not yet..._

It is all I can do not to scream at the top of my lungs; I bite down on my hand to stifle the sound and feel the unmistakeable metallic tang of blood in my mouth as I watch on, in utter horror.

The years have not been kind to Hyakki. Without a doubt he has regained much of his human body, but, it seems like he's forgotten to take care of it in the process. He is weak, scarred and emaciated. His clothes hang tattered and loose over a near skeletal frame, showing far more than I need to see. Under his clothes, his face, chest and arms are littered with scars, bruises and burns; the unmistakeable legacy of a life lived in war. His hair has been roughly cut, leaving no covering for the swollen mask of bruises and cuts over his face. Far too many of those scars look brand new. He is suspended from the ceiling by chains attached to his wrists, his feet barely touching the ground. His head is bent forwards and a thin trail of white vapour escapes from his mouth into the winter air; the only sign that he's even alive. The stifling stink of blood and human filth crawls up my nose and down my throat, clogging my mind and threatening to make me pass out. Oddly enough, I am actually within arm's reach of Hyakki right now; close enough to comfort him, to help him or even put him out of his misery. The only problem is, we're not the only two people in here.

The jailer – a man I don't recognise – stands a pace or two away, looking up and down his prize like a painter examining a landscape, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side. Although the jailer has a smile spread over his face, I'd be able to find more warmth in a snow storm. Every inch of me is utterly rearing to just attack this man and make a break for it. But, there are still dozens of armed guards waiting within earshot. As hard as it is, I have to be patient and wait for the right moment, which is proving harder and harder to do by the minute.

Somewhere outside, the wind moans through the trees, bringing a fresh wave of cold and snow through the window high above us. Even with a full stomach and a comparatively new kimono, I still feel the chill of it to my very bones. I can't even imagine what it must be doing to Hyakki. Spurred onwards by the change, the jailer steps forward, grabs Hyakki's hair and pulls, forcing Hyakki's head upwards. I repress a shudder as his bruised face is thrown into light from above and each and every bruise, cut, burn and swelling is made clear.

"Wake up, filth."

Slowly, agonisingly slowly, Hyakki's eyes open. A weak groan escapes from him, causing the jailer's smile to broaden.

"Had ourselves a nice rest, did we?"

Hyakki's not saying anything. From the way he's looking at the jailer, he's having a hell of a time even just working out where he is. I didn't think he'd be in such bad shape or I'd've made better plans. This is really going to be my only shot.

"We're moving you tomorrow," The jailer says, with the slightest air of disappointment in his voice. "It seems She has finally decided to collect. Her retainers will be here by sunset tomorrow to take you to her."

Whoever She is, the news certainly has an effect on Hyakki. His eyes snap fully open and he begins to shift in his restraints.

"Thought that'd wake you up," The jailer continues. "I certainly don't envy you. After your last meeting with Her I'm surprised she's even let you live _this_ long. However She chooses to end you, I certainly hope she takes her time."

Hyakki's pretty freaked out now. He's moving as much as his chains will allow and trying to make a sound, although all he can seem to manage is to moan. Not surprisingly, the jailer seems to find this hilarious.

"Ah, you have no idea how long we've all been waiting to see you like this. You've been nothing but a blight on our lands since you arrived and now we're going to see you pay."

From his robes, the jailer pulls a blade, short, thin and sharp. The grin on his face spreads even wider as he advances towards Hyakki, whose eyes are wide with fear.

"Come on then," the jailer says. "Beg. Beg me for mercy."

Hyakki is silent. Over the space of less than a second, the fear in his eyes vanishes, to be replaced with cold hatred. In our time travelling together, I never saw anything close to that kind of anger in his eyes. Sure, he was cold sometimes, verging on bitter. But, at the base of it all there was an unbreakable calm and understanding. What I see in him now is nothing short of demon fire and death incarnate. If that look was directed at me, I'd already have crumbled and begged for mercy. Then again, Hyakki is helpless and the jailer knows it. Regardless, his expression is stony and defiant to the end, which makes it all the worse when the blade meets flesh.

In spite of myself, I can't make myself close my eyes when the blade enters Hyakki's shoulder. His scream hits me like hammer on anvil, knocking any and all sense from me. It is then that I understand his silence. When he opened his mouth to scream, I saw: his tongue has been torn out. The scream doesn't even sound human; it's more of an animal howl. If he were anyone else I'd laugh at the irony; he fought so feverishly hard to get his voice back and now it has been taken from him forever. But, since it's my Hyakki, the only thing going through me now is the same rage I saw in his eyes just a moment ago, reflecting back into me a thousand times stronger and growing with every second. The scent of the blood dribbling from his shoulder mixes in with the taste of my own blood and, just like that, I have only one choice. I've never been the subtle sort anyway.

From my hiding place, just beneath the window, I leap, dagger in hand. My knife enters the jailer's throat before he even has time to see me and he is dead before he hits the floor. Waiting for cover of darkness ceased to be an option from the very instant that metal met skin. I'm only angry I didn't do something sooner.

Unfortunately for me, Hyakki has slipped out of consciousness. Dark red blood dribbles from the wound in his shoulder, threatening to turn into a much deeper wound if I am not cautious. Mind racing and heart crashing through my ears like thunder, I tear strips of the jailer's clothing for a makeshift bandage and tie as tight a bandage as my trembling hands will allow.

I won't lie; this is pretty jarring stuff. I was twelve when Hyakki and I first travelled together. Back then, he seemed so sturdy, so dependable, so strong. The way I remembered it most of the time, nothing could stop him, even at the point of total annihilation and even in the face of the abyss he would remain strong and incorruptible. So, to see him on the very edge, only a hair's breadth from death is beyond comprehension, beyond words. All the same, he is, without a doubt, my Hyakki, through and through and I will save him if it is the last thing I do.

I'm just not looking forward to the route out of this place...


End file.
